


Quiet Night

by xxstarcrossed



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxstarcrossed/pseuds/xxstarcrossed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is more worried about Claude then he really should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly fiction, meaning it really didn't happen. The exchange between James and Claude after the game was, however, captured on HBO. I'm not affiliated with the players in any way. This is simply for fun, and was born of a prompt over at the hockey kink meme.

The hit had scared him more than he cared to admit. After all, he was a hockey player. He was used to big hits. He was especially used to receiving them, if not giving them. But James had never seen a teammate go down like that. Not after a collision with another teammate. That was when he first knew the team was fucked. Claude had tried to get back in on the play, but clearly there was no way that he could. James watched as the referee had pushed him off the ice, and Claude just followed the direction of the push. He watched him until he got to the bench, and then he couldn’t watch, couldn’t watch as Jim talked to him in low whispers, couldn’t watch as Wayne hung his head next to him.

James couldn’t even imagine how Wayne felt, knowing that he caused Claude to leave the game, that it was essentially his fault, even though he’d tried to avoid it, tried to not make contact. James wanted to watch, wanted to see if Claude would stay on the bench or go to the locker room. But he couldn’t watch because he needed to get on the ice, needed to take his shift, needed to get it done to make up for the possible loss that would be Claude being out of the line-up for the rest of the game. The odds were not stacked in Claude's favor; when James returned to the bench he knew Claude was done for the night.

The rest of the game, James was preoccupied with wondering how Claude was doing, and he couldn't wait for the game to be over, to see if he was okay. Of course, they had to be careful. HBO cameras were all over, and they would capture the littlest of things, especially surrounding Claude, especially now. He washed quickly in the shower, throwing on his black Flyers shirt without bothering to completely dry himself off. He needed to find Claude, make sure he was okay. It was right outside the locker room that James ran into Claude.

"You okay, kid?" he asked quietly, tapping Claude’s chest as he moved by. James didn't wait for an answer, just kept walking -- just the slightest bit slower than normal -- and knew that Claude would keep up pretenses.

"Yeah, Riemer," Claude had said, and James turned in time to see his nod his head slightly and pursed his lips together. It was the answer that he – and the rest of the team – wanted, but he knew it wasn’t the truthful answer. It was the pursed lips that did him in, though, something that Claude had been doing ever since they started this _thing_ , whatever it was that it was. It was what had made James smile; he may have gotten hit, but it wasn’t that bad. Any other interactions would wait – would have to wait, in fact – until they made it away from HBO cameras. Luckily they were in Philadelphia and didn't have to board a plane with their noisy teammates and the cameras.

"So, tell me honestly," James stated finally, walking into Claude's apartment after him, "are you really okay?" Claude made a face at him as they both shrugged out of their suit jackets and stripped themselves out of the ties they were forced to wear.

"I'm fine," Claude stressed, not looking James in the eye. Not that he could on a normal basis, but that was a different matter entirely. James knew Claude could look him in the eye easily when they were like this, at home relaxing, unless Claude was lying. It was something that James had picked up on in his three years with the club; he was an observer by nature, and he immediately picked up when Claude was lying.

"Dammit, Claude," James muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He was new to this, new to them, that he had no idea how to get Claude to be honest with him. He just simply sat on the couch, putting his head in his hands and just sighing deeply. James couldn't help but wonder if Claude was always this stubborn about his injuries; he wondered if Danny would know anything that would help him out. They had lived together last year, certainly Danny would have figured out how to weasel Claude into telling the truth.

But thinking of Danny left James with a bitter taste in his mouth, even if nothing had happened between them. He just couldn’t get the thought of them out of his mind. He didn’t realize he was tense until Claude’s hands were smoothing over his dress shirt, gently massaging his hunched up shoulders. James slowly relaxed, taking deep breaths, before grasping Claude’s hands in his. “Why can’t you just let me take care of you for once?” James asked quietly, his eyes closed. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a confession. Claude just squeezed his hands before letting go. James opened his eyes to see the ginger standing in front of him, a curious expression on his face.

Then Claude was pushing his shoulders back, exposing James’ lap, and then crawling into it, straddling James. James hitched a breath, especially as Claude brushed against an extremely sore spot. But when Claude was burrowed into James’ chest, his arms wrapping around James tightly, he took a deep breath, settling his head atop the ginger curls. Claude sighed softly against James’ neck, and James ran his hand though the soft hair at the nape of Claude’s neck.

“I’m scared, Jamie,” Claude finally said after a long time of them sitting quietly together, the apartment still dark as when they had first walked in. James pressed his lips against Claude’s curls, and then his forehead, letting them linger.

“I know,” James said, just as quietly. And he didn’t do anything else but hold Claude. Right now, it was all the both of them needed.


End file.
